


Inertia

by helens78



Series: Matter of Time [9]
Category: Star Wars RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-19
Updated: 2003-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:38:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After thoroughly turning the tables on Liam, Ewan thinks he understands what makes Liam do it.  This could be bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inertia

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the warnings. The MoT series revolves around noncon.

_"Meet for a drink later, Ewan?"_

"Yeah, Liam, sure."

But Ewan got to the bar earlier, and he leaned in close to the bartender. "I'm going to be drinking with a friend in a minute, and he's going to order for me. Whatever it is he orders, give me mine watered down by half." Ewan digs a handful of bills out of his pocket, and peels off three and hands them to the bartender. "Fair?"

The bartender shrugs; he's heard stranger requests. "Up to you," he says, taking the money and pocketing it. "I'll keep an eye on you."

Ewan nods and goes back to a table in the back of the room. He drums his fingers on the tabletop, waiting, and when Liam finally shows up and sits down, Ewan smiles.

Liam doesn't smile. He hasn't smiled all day long. Hasn't smiled since the last time he pinned Ewan to the wall, when Ewan threw him an unexpected curve and got things tangled and twisted. It wasn't the same curve he got from Eric years back; it was something... Liam doesn't know what, but he's determined to see it doesn't happen again. He's going to put Ewan back in his place tonight.

He gestures at a waitress and orders scotch for both of them. Ewan sits back, that slow, unsettling smile still all over his face.

Liam doesn't speak. They both know what they're here for, and Liam can feel his blood racing with it. It's going to be a _challenge_ \-- the kind of challenge he's simply never had before. He didn't even know he wanted it; didn't realize it was something he could find in anyone, let alone in Ewan. But Ewan has been _perfect_ \-- ever since the beginning, Ewan has been perfect. He's had the right reactions, the right combination of nervousness and interest and intensity.

Liam is starting to wonder if he wants the tables to turn.

He drinks his scotch, watches Ewan drink his. Ewan plays with the rim of his glass; his hands are always busy, it seems, and Liam doesn't know what to make of that. Liam's own hands are big, and when he was younger he was so clumsy that he tended to stay still unless he knew exactly where and how he was going to move. And now his movements can be sudden, shocking; one of the things that usually gives him an advantage.

Liam is fairly certain his advantages are gone.

"Another?" Ewan asks, gesturing to Liam's empty glass.

"Yeah," Liam rumbles, "yeah, for the both of us, eh?" Ewan's glass is empty, too.

Ewan shrugs. "Why not?"

The drinks are watered-down, as Ewan requested; he's good at holding his liquor, but he needs the advantage of Liam being drunk. It's a good full circle; the first time, the very first time all this happened, Ewan was too drunk to remember it in the morning.

He doesn't want Liam that drunk. Just drunk enough to have inertia.

Inertia that has Liam nearly falling against the door when he tries to pin Ewan down. Inertia that has Liam grabbing Ewan and throwing him hard into the doorway instead of through it. Inertia that makes Liam stumble when he pushes Ewan down to the bed.

Inertia is a beautiful thing, Ewan thinks, biding his time and waiting for precisely the right moment to squirm out from under Liam's reach. Not yet. Not until Ewan's pants are down, until Liam's pants are down, until Liam is growling in his ear...

_...now_.

Liam stumbles and falls forward onto the bed, and Ewan is up, on him, pressing down hard with a hand to the back of Liam's neck. Liam struggles, shakes, but can't get free; he's pinned.

"Ewan..." he slurs.

"Fucking shut up," Ewan hisses. He brings his hand to his mouth and spits; it's nicer than Liam's been sometimes, and though Liam doesn't deserve it, Ewan is only so cruel, even now. Ewan slicks his cock with the thin layer of saliva and then lines himself up.

He keeps expecting Liam to say something. He expects Liam to say something when he feels the head of Ewan's cock against his arsehole; expects Liam to say something when he presses in, grunting, one inch at a time, steadily, until Liam is taking everything. All of it. Completely. He expects Liam to say something as Ewan manages to gather enough sweat and slickness to build up speed, but it never happens. Liam is completely, utterly silent.

_Fucking shut up,_ Ewan said, and Liam has.

Ewan lasts a dozen strokes or so once he has a hard, fast rhythm going; he doesn't bother trying to make it last -- he's not doing this for Liam, after all. When he comes, it's with an almost-startled grunt. His hips snap forward, and it's all over.

He pulls out, slaps Liam hard on one cheek. "Get up and get the fuck out of my room," Ewan snarls.

Liam stays still for several seconds, but then he stands, pulls his pants up. Ewan can hear the shaking, stuttered rhythm of the zipper going up; Liam's hands must be shaking badly, very badly, to make it sound like that.

Ewan grins.

Grins more.

Liam doesn't try to meet Ewan's eyes at first -- just gets his clothes together and tries to walk out of the room. Ewan stops him, gets a hand on his shoulder, pushes him back so they can see each others' faces.

The look on Liam's face is beautiful. Hurt, scared, miserable, desperate, pleading. Ewan feels a thrill race up from the soles of his feet to the top of his spine. _Beautiful._ God.

And Liam hurries out of the room.

_-end-_


End file.
